Non Sequitur
by Pearl Prynne
Summary: This is nothing but fluff in a candy floss martini. Usagi/Mamoru. It hints at things but does not directly go there, so rated T


This is nothing but fluff in a candy floss martini. It hints at things but does not directly go there.

I don't own Sailor Moon or the characters. If the creators didn't want us playing with them, they shouldn't have made them so damn amazing.

* * *

><p>It was always at these exact moments that Mamoru counted on Usagi bursting out with some insane comment that came completely out of nowhere.<p>

Usually they were on the bed, but sometimes -depending on circumstances - there were other locales. In any case, it was more about _when_ than where. That moment when bodies were intertwined, and mouths were busy with tongues and lips and skin and murmuring names and sighs and gasps. And when hands were sneaking in through various structural weaknesses in that day's clothing choice. It was usually right at _that_ moment.

"Ne, Mamo-chan?"

More than once her sudden interest in an seemingly arbitrary topic had pulled them both back from that brink, where passion would overload circuits and maybe they'd go further than they were ready for.

Sometimes it was deep: "Mamo-chan, how many people live in Tokyo?" she'd asked once, and that lead to a conversation about her awesome responsibility as Sailor Moon and those who depended on her every day. And also, to how the enemy went about searching dream-mirrors seemingly at random and how that plan was statistically faulty (well, those exact words Mamoru's).

Sometimes it was strange: "Mamo-chan, do you think everyone sees colors the same?"

Sometimes it was uncomfortable: "Mamo-chan, would you still love me if I'd been reborn really, really ugly?"

And sometimes it was just plain out of the blue: "Mamo-chan, do you think trees have feelings?"

But always it was enough to completely halt things in their path, if not like a splash of cold water, at least like a slow cool-down, and bring them back around to just talking and holding each other.

Once he'd asked her, "Usako, were you thinking about that _this whole time_?"

And was rewarded with a delicate flush under porcelain skin, "Of _course_ not. I was thinking about... other things," the flush became a red burning in her cheeks. "But you know, Mamo-chan, this just came into my head and so I said it."

And Mamoru came to depend on that. He figured whatever was beaming his girlfriend random thoughts would continue to do so at exactly the right moment. And maybe he let his guard down a little.

And that was when for whatever reason, there suddenly_ was_ no random non-sequitor to pop into Usagi's brain at the right moment.

It wasn't like he realized its absence as such, but whatever part of his brain that was linked to muscle memory realized something was not per usual. He usually wasn't given this much leeway with his palms and the smooth, warm skin of her stomach. She usually hadn't found the time to worm her way beneath him so completely. Her hair usually hadn't _completely_ come undone from its usual style.

That spark of recognition was quickly doused out when a small hand pulled urgently at his shirt collar and brought his head down for another kiss.

Coherent thought. He could do this. He was top of his class at one of the prestigious schools in one of the most academically celebrated countries in the world. It should be too hard to say something random and silly, to break this spell they had on each other. Usagi managed to do it all the time.

But, oh, god, her hair was everywhere.

Pi is 3.14159-

Who knew he could mentally recite the decimals of Pi and and fumble with a bra hook at the same time?

2653-

"Even pi is failing me," he murmured.

Suddenly small hands were pushing his shoulders up a little bit and china doll blue eyes were looking right up at him from beneath thick lashes.

"Did you say pie?" Because now he had her attention.

"Not exactly-"

"That was random," she was catching her breath, her hands now safely on his shoulders. He shifted his body over to lie beside her, pulled her close to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Ne, Mamo-chan? What does 'Idaho' mean in Pizza Hut's 'Idaho Special'? Is it a city in Hokkaido?"

Oh. _Now_, here it is. A few minutes too late, but nonetheless...

"Where did that come from, Usako?"

"Well, you said 'pie' and it made me think of 'pizza pie' and it made me think of pizza and I'm hungry. And I like the Idaho Special."

"Idaho is in America," he said.

"Oh, because pizza is American!"

"Actually, pizza is Italian."

"NO WAY."

She sat up, folded her arms on his chest and leaned her head on them. Her hair fell down around her shoulders, her arms, across his body and his bed. Her shirt was askew and his was half unbuttoned. But now they were okay to just be together, quietly. The passion had returned to simmer under the surface. And hopefully next time it bubbled over, Usagi would again come through with a perky question apropos of nothing.

But just in case, Mamoru would have to make a list of non-sequitors. For himself.

"Hey, Mamo-chan, I have an idea! We should order a pizza!"

* * *

><p>The idea of Mamoru reciting Pi to distract himself in a moment of weakness is from a cockpit doujinshi (adorbs x 1000 if you've never seen their stuff) and I borrowed it because - c'mon you <em>know<em> the man does this. (Also, I'm an English major so I looked up Pi past two decimals on google - if it's wrong blame them, not me.)

Reviews are greatly, humbly, and terrifically appreciated.


End file.
